


Avowed

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character in peril, Eventual Smut, F/M, Lady Emma, Priest Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Runaway Bride, daring rescues, poorly timed confessions, tent sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-18 00:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: A series of prompt mash-ups that became something more. CS Historical AU: Lady Emma, betrothed to Lord Baelfire, slips up during the recitation of her vows, confessing a long held desire of her heart. After fleeing her ceremony, she is pursued by her would-be groom and the man to whom her heart truly belongs. A man she can never have because of the vows he already made to One more worthy than her. Or so she thinks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mash-up of Arranged Marriage + Poorly Timed Confession

The chapel was breathtaking. The pungent aroma of so many freshly cut blooms filled her sinuses, making her a tad light headed as she made her way down the aisle. The harp strings plucked a hauntingly beautiful tune, tinged ever so slightly with a hint a melancholy that Emma felt resonating along the strings of her heart. The folds and layers of her wedding gown swished around her ankles with each reluctant step she took towards the altar.

Reluctant, because awaiting her upon the raised dias were two men. One she wanted with all her heart, but could never hope to have, and one to whom she’d been given in betrothal for the sake of her lands and people, but held no affection. How different those gazes from the two sets of eyes she focused on were. The browns were cold, despite their warm, earthy tone.

Possessive in a way that made her skin crawl, yet almost indifferent as well. The blues, though… Despite their cool hue, they burned with an intensity that always threatened to steal her breath in the best of ways. Her legs felt unstable when she reached her groom, weak from both the final glimpse of those beloved forget-me-not irises and the future she faced once she turned her attentions from them.

Her heart swelled and shattered as the blue eyed priest began the sacred ceremony that would bind her to the lord she cared nothing for. What did it matter? She couldn’t have who her heart truly desired. He had already bound himself to a higher calling; one far more important and worthy than her.

When the time came for her to declare her vows, she hoped the tightness in her throat and wetness gathering in the corner of her eyes would be interpreted as held back exuberance. There would be no misinterpreting her words, though.

“Lady Emma,” Father Jones prompted. “Repeat after me. I, Lady Emma, take you Lord Baelfire.”

Emma swallowed heavily and closed her eyes, praying that God would give her strength to say her vows from the heart. “I, Lady Emma, take you Killian-”

A collective gasp erupted from the congregation. Her own mortification and the thunderous look on her groom’s face forced her to snatch her hands out of his grasp and stumble backward.

“Emma?” Father Jones exhaled on a startled breath, but she couldn’t face him. Couldn’t face any of them.

Taking flight as fast as her long skirts would allow, she sprinted back up the aisle and out of the chapel doors with shouts following her. Tears streamed down her face and her chest ached from the hollow void she feared could never be filled. That was a lie. It had already been filled. Filled by a love for a man that was forbidden to her. A love she’d thought she’d be able to conceal for the rest of her days. Days that now felt numbered.

What sort of retribution awaited her now that she’d confessed to love that which belonged to heaven? That which was never meant for her?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mash-up of Historical AU + Accidental Eavesdropping

* * *

Killian paced the narrow length of his chamber, the parchment of an undelivered letter clutched tightly in his hand. After Emma’s flight from the chapel he’d been stopped from going after her by his fellow clergy who had urged him to wait in his room until their ailing Bishop could be roused and apprised of the situation. Once sequestered behind the heavy wooden door Killian had been relieved to find his letter still tucked away in the back of his desk drawer. A letter that held the contents of his heart, his most illuminating confession, and the darkest of secrets.

Killian sat upon his bed and unfolded the missive he’d been too much of a coward to place within the hands for whom it was intended, and reflected upon the words scrawled there.

_Emma,_

_I must confess that I have had to refrain from composing this letter to My Dearest Emma, for though you are utterly dear to me, you are not mine. Nor am I yours._

_How I have prayed and wished over these many months that we had met before the taking of my vows. Before your parents perished and you were consigned to the duty befalling most noble women. Not that such a change to the fate of our lives would have mattered, for without my frock I am still only the son of a blacksmith, no more worthy of, or suitable for, a well-bred woman than a priest, especially a disgraced one._

_And I am disgraced. Though I have never so much as uttered a single word of my affection towards you, nor had the pleasure of even the most modest caress of your flesh, in my dreamstate - both waking and sleeping - I have never held back my desire for such intimacies. The struggle I have endured within my spirit has left me with but one conclusion. The dishonor of revoking my vows before God pales in comparison to the honor I would feel in knowing you might hold within yourself even the smallest portion of loving affection towards me._

_Do not misunderstand my darling, lest you bear a guilt unnecessary. I am not choosing you over God, my love and devotion for Him remains fervent, but it is no longer a singular love or devotion held within my heart. No, I do not love God any less for loving you, and He has given me His quiet assurance that He does not love me any less for loving you._

_And I do love you, Emma. With all that I am free to offer you, and even that which I am not. I love you._

_I know your guardian will never approve of me as a suitable match, nor would we be accepted by your people, but I would face every callous remark, every stare of condemnation, every whispered calumny if you granted me the privilege of being yours. One word from you and I shall present myself before the Bishop to be laicized. One glimmer of affection for me within your veridian eyes and I shall take upon myself new vows. Vows I shall never relinquish, for I believe in my heart they are the ones I was always meant to take. With you._

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes and his chest ached from longing. He’d been on his way to deliver this letter when word spread that Lady Emma had been betrothed to Lord Baelfire. He’d been too late.

Though heartbroken, he’d counted it a blessing that the letter had never been delivered. Lady Emma had never given him any overt indication that she reciprocated in kind the feelings he harbored for her. And why would she? He was a priest. A servant of God. He’d been mad to think she might return his affection. Or so he’d thought.

It had been his own personal hell to watch her gracefully make her way down the aisle towards him, knowing he was not the one she was making her way to. When Bishop Hopper had fallen ill, unable to perform the ceremony himself, Killian had cried out to God with lamentations. He supposed it was his penance for the sins he’d committed, and for his own folly in believing an angel such as Emma could ever love a man like him. But then…

She’d said his name.

Before God, the congregation, and the man whose name should have crossed her lips, Emma had spoken _his_ name. His given name. Killian. Never had his name sounded so melodious in his ears. The rapture of the moment quickly tarnished, however, when the full weight of what her revelation would mean bore down on him as she stumbled back from her groom, and deteriorated further when her name rushed past his own lips in exhale. Where Baelfire had demanded she stop, Killian’s utterances at her retreating form had been more imploring in nature, begging her to return so he could verify the truth he’d glimpsed in her eyes. A truth he hoped he might be given the chance to uphold with his own.

Tucking away the letter within his robes, Killian answered the knock upon his door and the summons to report to the Bishop. A murmur of voices rang softly within the corridor that led to the Bishop’s chambers, and made Killian stop in his tracks once their iterations obtained clarity within his hearing.

_“I don’t care what the Bishop says,”_ Baelfire hissed. _“Something had to be going on between them. I want that priest’s head on a spike, do you hear me?”_

_“Of course, my lord. It shall be done.”_ another man whispered darkly. _“Do you think this priest might have knowledge as to where Lady Emma might have fled?”_

_“Most likely.”_ Baelfire stated. _“Make sure you torture the information out of him before killing him.”_

Turning on heel, Killian hurried back to his chambers and gathered his meager belongings. Among the vows he’d laid aside since meeting Emma was that of poverty. He had not amassed a grand amount of wealth, but enough for a comfortable new beginning for he and his love. Perhaps not the comforts Emma was accustomed to, but he could not worry himself over that now. Baelfire’s orders made it clear that Killian must flee. He had to find Emma and get them as far away from the infuriated lord as possible.

He just wished he knew where to begin.

Despite Baelfire’s assertion, Killian had no idea where Emma might have gone. One thing he did know; he _would_ find her. Even if he had to go to the ends of the world. With a quick prayer beseeching God’s guidance and His protective hand over him and Emma, Killian slipped out of the rectory and into the dark unknown.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mash-up of Almost Kiss + Character in Peril

* * *

Raucous laughter spilled out from the tavern as Killian approached its entry. The memory of Emma’s confession that she had on occasion disguised herself as a peasant in order to mingle with the common folk in such establishments had been recalled during his journey into the village. Looking about at the rough crowd, he wasn’t sure he wished to hope to find her here, but he was running out of time. Lord Baelfire’s men were already in pursuit of Lady Emma, and his disappearance had surely been realized by now as well.

A flash of golden curls escaping the cloak of a maiden sat in a dark corner caught his eye. Her face was obscured by the its downward cast and the hood pulled prominently forward to cover her features. Even so, he knew it must be her.

“Pardon me, miss,” he murmured softly once he’d reached her table. “Might I be permitted to join you?”

Her head shot up in panic. Her eyes were rimmed red and her usually creamy complexion was blotchy from the unburdening of her distress.

“K-Killi-”

He put a finger to his lips, signaling that she should not utter his name. “Not here.” Extending his hand, he assisted her from her seat after she took hold and led them out the back into the alleyway. “It isn’t safe,” he warned, keeping to the shadows until they were at the outskirts of the village, some ways off the main road and within the protection of the nearby forest.

“How did you… how did you find me?” Emma questioned, sinking down onto a fallen log and prompting him to take a seat beside her, never letting go of his hand.

“I remembered your penchant for masquerading in taverns,” he explained with an affectionate smirk. “How did you come by such a costume so quickly?” He tried to keep his eyes averted from the enticing expanse of her décolletage, enhanced by the corset and framed within the parted edges of the cloak. Tried… and failed.

“I stole it,” she confessed sheepishly. “It was hanging on the line outside one of the villager’s homes.”

Killian couldn’t help but smile at the guilt-riddled and bloody brilliant beauty before him. “I do not believe God will judge you too harshly, Lady Emma,” he soothed, absentmindedly stroking the back her hand with his thumb.

“I suppose not,” she agreed, but with a measure of forlorning in her tone. “Not when I have committed a more egregious sin in His eyes.”

Her face was once again downcast, but with gentle prodding from his fingers beneath her chin, her eyes lifted to meet his once more. “What sin would that be?”

Fresh pools shimmered in her eyes, caught in the faint rays of moonlight. The tender flesh of lip worried between her teeth before she timidly whispered, “Love.”

Killian’s heart soared within his chest, and his hand moved from her chin to cup her cheek. “Love is never a sin, Emma.”

“It is when that which you love already belongs to another,” she lamented, tears breaking fear of her lashes and spilling over her cheeks. “Belongs to God Himself.”

“I shall always belong to God,” he affirmed, “that will not change. Even when I make new vows, to belong to you.”

Emma’s eyes widened and her lips parted. “What… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I love you, Emma. I’ve loved you since the moment we met.”

“But… your vows. Your sacred commitment,” she protested. “You’ll be disgraced, maybe even excommunicated.”

“Only in the eyes of man,” Killian argued. “God knows my heart. He knows our hearts. And the vows we take together will be no less sacred in their eternal commitment. Loving you does not break my vows to God, not truly. It merely changes the scope of my calling. And I can think of no greater calling for my life than to love you. To serve at your side for all the days of my life. But only if you wish it also.”

“I do,” Emma elated softly, her breath caressing his lips as they each inched ever closer to one another, both sets of eyes falling shut in anticipation of that long-awaited kiss.

Before their declarations could be sealed by the press of their lips, a rustling nearby startled them apart and to their feet.

“There they are! Seize them!”

Lord Baelfire’s guards rushed towards them, swords drawn and shackles at the ready. “Emma, run!” Killian shouted, but it was too late. Strong hands grasped onto her arms, forcing them behind her back, as a pair simultaneously subdued him as well. The ruffian’s boot kicked his feet out from under him, slamming Killian’s knees into the earth while Emma was dragged from his side.

“No!” she shouted. “Unhand me!”

“Not to worry, milady,” the guard addressed with a mocking bow. “Lord Baelfire has given strict instructions, you are not to be harmed. You, on the other hand,” he sneered, turning his attention to Killian. “His Lordship’s instructions were not quite as… merciful.”

Killian struggled helplessly as he was dragged back to the fallen log, his head dangling precariously over the side after being thrown on top of it. The sound of a sword leaving its sheath, the leaves crunching under the brute’s feet as he drew near, Emma’s fervent screams, and the violent rush of blood pounding in his ears were the last things he heard before closing his eyes to accept his fate.


	4. Chapter 4

The whistle of an arrow sounded from overhead before it struck Killian’s would be executioner, collapsing him to the ground. A barrage of more arrows flew through the clearing until every guard lay dead. Killian lifted himself off the fallen log, kneeling in the soft earth, when Emma flung herself into his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she wept, trembling against his chest.

“No need to worry about him, lass,” a confident bravado called out from the treeline. “If Killian Jones is anything, he’s a survivor.”

The man stepped out of the shadows, and Killian’s face broke into a wide grin. “Robin! Are you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Robin?” Emma inquired, pulling her head from Killian’s chest and looking about the clearing at the motley crew of men also making their way out of the darkness. “Not Robin Hood! The bandit?”

“At your service,” Robin bowed with a flourish of his hand and a chuckle on his breath.

Killian picked himself up then assisted Emma from the ground before greeting his old friend with a laugh and embrace. He could feel Emma’s confounded gaze sweep over them as well as her wary posture, tense and alert as she pulled her cloak tightly around herself. Whether her stunned response was caused by the presence of the notorious outlaw, or the fact that her would be lover held him with the esteem of a brother was anyone’s guess. Or perhaps it was the incongruence of a priest, even one displaced such as he, would be on any kind of terms with a sinner the likes of Hood.

“Emma, love,” Killian beckoned, extending his hand towards her in invitation. When she placed her hand within, he closed his fingers around it, brushing the back of it with his thumb in order to ease her hesitancy. “May I present Robin of Locksley, though as you know, he no longer answers to that name. Robin, may I present to you Lady Emma.”

“ _Lady_ Emma? You never did do anything by halves, did you Jones?” Robin smirked. “Am I to assume that Lady Emma is the cause of your most recent run in with knights and guards?”

“Recent?”

Killian felt heat bloom across his cheeks and he reached up to scratch behind his ear. “I haven’t always been a priest,” he confessed with chagrin. “There was a time when I counted myself among Robin’s merry men.”

“You did? When? How?”

“Perhaps that conversation might wait until we are back within the safety of our camp,” Robin suggested. “My men and I offer you and your lady our sanctuary, my friend.”

“Thank you, mate,” Killian replied. “And aye. We best vacate the area before more guards arrive.”

Killian squeezed Emma’s hand and turned requesting eyes her way, waiting for her agreement before instructing Robin to lead the way to the merry men’s camp.

“How did you happen to be in this part of the kingdom, ready to come to our aid?” Emma questioned Robin while they trekked deeper into the forest. “Last I heard, you were making life rather difficult in Nottingham.”

“Oh, we were,” Robin said jovially. “But then we heard that one of the lords we’ve been eager to take down a peg or two was coming here in order to marry one of the local noble women. We’d positioned ourselves to waylay the honeymoon carriage when he passed by with his bride on the way to the docks this evening, but he either he took a different route, or the celebration has not yet ended.”

“Or it never began,” Killian uttered quietly, so only Emma and Robin’s ears were privy to his words.

Robin turned a perplexed look upon his friend. His eyes shifted from Killian, to Emma, to their joined hands, then back to Killian before they widened comically. Killian felt the tops of his ears reddening, and looked down to see the same flush upon Emma’s face before she turned it into his side. Robin’s momentary astonishment morphed into a knowing smirk.

“I told you those robes and collars would never suit you,” he quipped. “You’re a thief, through and through, and the proof stands before me, for you’ve clearly stolen Lady Emma’s heart. And right out from under Baelfire,” he cackled. “To think, they call _me_ a bloody pirate!”

Little else was said during their journey, not until Robin motioned for them to halt and signalled their presence to an invisible sentry with a call that could easily be mistaken for a forest fowl. The hospitality of the welcome they received served to loosen Emma’s inhibitions more and more as the evening wore on, and Killian sat in awe as he watched her laugh freely and enjoy the camaraderie on display all around them.

Slumped sleepily into his side in front of the dying fire, Emma yawned heartily and Killian made eyes at Robin. “Perhaps, it is time we adjourn for the night?”

“Of course,” Robin said, standing and gesturing for the pair to follow. “I had Little John prepare accommodations for you both to bed down in tonight.”

Killian stopped short when he noticed that only one tent had been assembled for their use, and a sudden gasp of realization fell from Emma’s lips where she stood beside him. He cast a hard look at Robin who had the audacity to return his stare with a look of utter innocence.

“What? Is was the best we could do with such short notice.” Before sauntering off he tossed a wink at Killian as a grin of mischief spread across his face.

Killian shook his head at his heathen friend and ran his hand through his hair, before letting go an exasperated sigh. “You take the tent, love,” he offered to Emma. “Get some rest. You must be exhausted after all you’ve experience in these short hours.”

“What about you?” she asked on a soft whisper. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll find myself a place by the fire.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brush them along the backs of her knuckles. “Sleep well, my love.”

When he made to let go of her hand, she only held on tighter. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth and a maelstrom surged within her eyes.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want you to sleep by the fire,” she admitted with sudden boldness, then swallowed nervously at her own brazen words.

“Emma,” he exhaled on a half groan. “I would like nothing more than to join you in that tent, but even disgraced as I am as a priest, I cannot, _we_ cannot-”

His words were cut off by her lips, soft and supple and gone from his too soon before she murmured, “I know. I just… I don’t want to be alone.” Raised up on her toes, she pressed her forehead to his, the tips of their noses, cold from the chill of night, brushing against the other’s as their breaths mingle. “Please, Killian. Stay with me?”

Who was he to deny her anything?

“Forever,” he vowed and followed her into their tent.


	5. Chapter 5

The tent was not spacious by any means, but it did afford them each enough room to ready themselves for bed without tripping over the other. With her back to Killian and the opening of the tent, Emma undid the lasses of her corset with shaky fingers. It was not lost on her that if not for a slip of the heart earlier, she would be doing this same thing with a different man in her presence and a different set of expectations to follow.

Once she’d undressed down to her shift, Emma turned to find Killian standing at the foot of their makeshift bed. He’d removed his boots and robes, leaving him in an untucked tunic and soft breeches. The dim light of the lantern that had been provided to them cast a warm glow over his face, neck, and exposed bit of his chest from the open collar of his shirt. Wisps of dark chest hair curled at the hollow of his throat which tightened in an obvious swallow around his Adam’s apple.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I slept out by the fire?” he asked, valiantly keeping his eyes trained on hers and not allowing their gaze to travel down her body.

“I’m sure.”

Giving credence to her words, she slipped beneath the heavy blanket covering the fur hides that made up the pallet, then gave him a pointed look when he still hadn’t moved from his spot.

“I assure you, _Father Jones,_ ” she teased, “your virtue is quite safe with me.”

A disgruntled sounding huff fell from his lips as he finally proceeded to join her. “It isn’t my virtue, or lack thereof, I’m concerned with,” he grumbled while bedding down beside her. “Your reputation-”

“Is already in ruins,” she reminded him. “And what does my reputation matter if it is tarnished by the man I plan to call husband?”

“Husband?” he exhaled softly.

Doubt, in the face of his taken aback expression, began to swirl in her chest. “Did I misunderstand you before? I thought you meant to-”

“I do,” he insisted, finding her hand beneath the blanket. “The moment I am free of my clerical vows, I plan to make new ones with you. If you’ll have me.”

“I will, gladly,” she affirmed, causing a bright smile to erupt at his lips. Lips she’d very much like to kiss, despite the assurance she’d given him. An assurance he did not seem overly concerned with when his gaze fell to her mouth.

Leaning in, Emma met Killian halfway and inhaled deeply when their lips met. Her entire body was like the string of one of the Merry Men’s bows; drawn tight with anticipation and at the ready for whatever might come next. That tension melted away when Killian’s hand threaded itself through her hair and his tongue teased the seam of her lips.

She gasped lightly at being rolled onto her back, and Killian took advantage of her parted lips, deepening the kiss in a way that was foreign to her. Foreign and exotic, like an imported elixir that delighted the tongue while making the imbiber giddy with a loosening of their faculties. A moan released from the back of Killian’s throat, and Emma felt the reverberation of it in his chest as it rumbled against hers. The tips of her breasts hardened at the contact and a pulsing current swept over her, settling at the juncture between her thighs.

While Killian continued the pleasant assault upon her mouth, Emma skimmed her hands over his back until her fingers reached the hem of his tunic. Another groan escaped him before it could be swallowed down when her hands slipped beneath the fabric of his shirt to the heated flesh beneath. She traced the dip and curve of his spine with the pads of her fingers, lightly perusing the expanse of his skin which was sketched with the occasional scar and raised in ripples of wonder in response to her touch. Air rushed into her lungs when his lips blazed a path down her neck, the stubble along his jaw tickling her and causing her to giggle and squirm beneath him.

A tormented sort of sound resonated from deep within Killian’s chest. “You can’t move like that, or else I will never be able to keep my resolve.”

“What resolve would that be?” she panted, only now realizing how close his hand was to the side of her breast.

“To not take you right here in this very tent,” he growled tightly, his eyes burning with a desire that resolve was failing to quench. “I know I’m not worthy of you, and yet… you love me. The least I can do is ensure we are wed properly, joined together in the sight of God by a member of the clergy.”

“It would seem to me,” Emma murmured while brushing away the fringe that had fallen over his forehead. “We have a member of the clergy present to do just that.”

Killian’s brow arched as he stared down at her. “That would be most unorthodox.”

“But no less binding of spirit and soul.” Her fingers tracked down his face until his cheek was cupped in her hand. With a deep breath she vowed, “I, Lady Emma, take you, Killian Jones, to be my husband. To love and honor in the service of God for as long as I draw breath.”

Killian’s eyes fell shut and he nuzzled into her palm. He reached out to claim her other hand, lacing their fingers together in the plush furs they laid upon then opened his eyes to meet her gaze. “I, Killian Jones, take you, Lady Emma, to be my wife. To love and honor in the service of God for as long as I draw breath.” A brief, fretful look passed over his features. “I have no ring to offer you, love. But with everything I am, I thee wed.”

Emma squeezed her fingers around his. “With everything I am, I thee wed.”

A sly smile crept up at the corners of Killian’s mouth. “Then, as my last official act as a servant of God, I now pronounce us husband and wife.”

“Come kiss your bride,” Emma said, pulling his face back towards hers.

“As my wife wishes,” Killian murmured huskily against her lips before devouring her.


End file.
